


Communication

by believesinponds



Series: Domestic Bliss [16]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, but at least they are kind of communicating now, mick and len don't exactly have the most productive communication style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/believesinponds/pseuds/believesinponds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len lets Mick patch him up after their fists do the talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication

**Author's Note:**

> Set after _Legends of Tomorrow_ 1x10.

“We had a deal, Mick. Kill me and you walk.” Len sucked in a quiet breath, doing his best to ignore the shooting pain in his head. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” _To be rid of me._ “To get off the team?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Mick sounded resigned. “Truth is it doesn’t matter.”

Len wanted to look at him, to try and get a read of his partner’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he closed his eyes and said, “What are you talking about?”

“Whether I stay or leave, I’m dead.” Mick paused, and Len could feel his gaze. “We’re all dead.”

Len let out a quiet groan as he heaved his bent leg around to lie flat on the ground. “Well I ain’t ready to die just yet.”

Mick was silent for a moment, contemplative, and then he sighed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood and held his hand down to Len, jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon. I have some things to tell the crew.”

Len groaned again as he let Mick pull him up, and he was startled to find Mick’s hands on his waist, steadying him.

“You okay there, buddy?”

Len gave him a look, but Mick’s face was blank.

“Gideon will fix you up and nobody will have to know that I beat your sorry ass.”

Len snorted, but it was painful. “They already know that you like to do things to my ass, Mick.”

He couldn’t see, but he was sure that Mick rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to the med bay, Boss.”

Mick hadn’t called him “Boss” in weeks. Years, maybe even decades, from his perspective. And yet it flowed off his tongue like it was natural, and Len supposed it was. It was almost a term of endearment after thirty years of being used ironically, and Len couldn’t help the small smile that snuck onto his face.

“This way,” Mick said, pulling him toward the room where Rip had regrown Len’s hand.

Len stopped, his abrupt movement throwing Mick off guard.

“What’re you doing, Snart?” Mick asked warily.

“Nothing. I’m not going in there.” He bit his lip, then hissed when his teeth dug into a fresh cut. He did need some kind of medical attention. “I’ll fix myself up back in our--in the room.”

Mick seemed to study him for a moment, eyes narrowed, and then he huffed and said, “Fine. Lead the way.”

“You don’t need to--” Len began.

“ _Lead the way_ , Snart.”

Len didn’t argue.

***

“Been a while since I was the one patching _you_ up,” Mick said, dabbing at a bloody cut with a disinfectant wipe.

Len kept himself from wincing at the sting. “Been a while since we had a fist fight.”

Mick chuckled, which felt like a win.

They fell into a silence that was fairly comfortable. Mick cleaned the blood off of Len’s face and applied some sealant spray to the bigger cuts. His fingers were less than gentle, but the deftness and familiarity was comforting.

“Haven’t seen you with a split lip in years,” Mick muttered, his thumb running over the cut. “Makes you look like the punk kid I met in juvie.”

Len held his breath, unable to come up with a witty response. Mick’s thumb trailed off his lips and brushed across his cheek, his eyes studying Len’s face critically. Then his hand slid around to the back of Len’s neck and he leaned down, kissing the top of his head.

Len let out a shaky sigh.

“You take care of those bruises, Snart.” Mick’s lips brushed against his shaved head as he spoke.

Len swallowed and did his best to drawl, “Sure thing, Mick.”

Mick pulled away, avoided Len’s gaze, and strode out the door.

“Baby steps,” Len muttered to himself. He touched one of the bruises on his jaw and winced. “Baby steps.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this weeks ago but I've been a little too distracted to actually get any words out. I'll hopefully be back to writing these regularly now :)
> 
> As always, come visit me on [tumblr](http://believesinponds.tumblr.com)!


End file.
